


Our Little Secret

by QueridaMyDear



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Claiming through corsetry, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Jealousy, Public Display of Affection, Reader wears feminine style clothing, Voyeurism, especially when it comes to ashtoreth, everything i touch turns pervy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 12:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueridaMyDear/pseuds/QueridaMyDear
Summary: Ashtoreth takes you shopping at her favorite clothing store and helps you pick out some new clothes.





	Our Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by this ask.](https://fuckyeahnannyashtoreth.tumblr.com/post/187243352502/go-shopping-with-nanny-so-she-can-give-me-goth)

You had mentioned more than once to Ashtoreth how much you admired her style, and how you wished you had even a modicum of sense of fashion yourself, but your day to day clothes tended toward the tshirt and jeans variety. Even the idea of trying to dress up a bit, maybe add a few accessories, it felt frankly ridiculous to you, like everyone would notice and realize that you had no idea what you were doing.

“I’ll take you shopping, dear.” She’d said it offhandedly and you weren’t sure if she meant it or if she was just entertaining you, but the idea of having her undivided attention during a shopping trip made your heart so light and happy it felt like it might flutter right out of your chest.

Then the issue was dropped for some time until she arrived at your door one morning and dragged you out to her car, a classic and immaculate vintage Bentley. You knew the car was her pride and joy and the fact you had been privileged enough to ride in it multiple times meant you were special to her. Not just anyone was allowed in Ashtoreth’s precious ride.

“Where to?” You asked, nerves obvious on your voice. 

“My favorite shop, where I get most of my clothes.”

Privileged as you feel to get to ride in the Bentley, she drives too fast and you’re too busy holding on for dear life to even notice the route she took. You look around when the car comes to a screeching halt, and see a nondescript little store. Ashtoreth is already out of the car and has come around to your side, opening the door for you.

You go inside, following at her heels. The shop is full of employees who look effortlessly stylish and like everything you are not, but even worse, they all appear to know Ashtoreth, and they all greet her eagerly one by one as they realize she’s there. They’re all just as eager for her attention as you are and you realize you’re jealous. The feeling is ugly and you hate yourself for it, but you can’t stop yourself from wondering if she’s ever taken their faces in her hand and made them tremble and shake with a few careful words like she does with you.

“So, my darling. Would you like to have a look around and pick things out? Or leave it to me to find things that would suit you?” Ashtoreth speaks and it pulls you away from your thoughts. Her soft accent curls around your ears like smoke, the echo of it still in your ears even as she stands, hip cocked, awaiting a response as she stares at you behind her dark glasses. The shop is filled with all manner of dark colored clothing, different textured cloth, different cuts, different patterns. Against the far wall are shelves to the ceiling lined with heels, platforms, mary janes, boots cut from mid calf to thigh high. Another wall is covered by a glass case, displaying all manner and size of body jewelry, your traitorous thoughts making you wonder if Ashtoreth is boasting any jewelry hidden beneath her high necklines and long sleeves. Would she ever show you? Do you deserve to see it?

You shiver, overwhelmed by all the choices. And there’s a part of you still burning with jealousy over how familiar the employees were. You want them to watch Ashtoreth give _you_ her undivided attention, and pick out clothes for _you_. Beyond wanting to make them ache with the same jealousy you feel now, you want to see what Ashtoreth will pick out. What does she want to see on you? What does she think will look good on you?

“Could you pick something out for me?” It feels indulgent, asking something like this of her. Please, go out of your way for me. Please, spoil me. Please, pay attention to me. She smiles, her mouth curled and wicked looking, as if she has heard your thoughts and knows exactly what it is that you’re after, and she’s going to deliver.

“Of course, dear.” Ashtoreth grabs you by the hand and brings you around the store, never once looking up at the store employees when they speak to her, only ever keeping her eyes and hands on you, speaking only to you. Out of the corner of your eye you see an employee and recognize the same aching, longing jealousy you felt when you first came in the store with Ashtoreth, but you don’t feel the least bit sorry. Ashtoreth is here with you and her attention is yours.

“This is enough to start with.” Ashtoreth says at last, having spent some forty minutes dragging you from display to display, holding items of clothing up against you to judge the color, cut, and fit, and how they look with everything else she’s picked out. You follow her to the fitting rooms, to the mountain of clothing she’s picked out, and stare helplessly, not knowing where to start. Ashtoreth has already picked out something for you from the mountain of clothes, a simple dress. She marches into the fitting room, the curtain flouncing behind her, and she reemerges a moment later, and seats herself on a velvet lined bench seat.

“Go along, darling. Unless you want me to help you undress?” She displays that wicked, dangerous smile again that suggests she’s more than willing to help you undress before you try on her selections, but that you might not be able to handle her undressing you in the privacy of a very small, very intimate fitting room.

You run into the fitting room, almost grateful for a moment to yourself. Being the sole recipient of her unrelenting attention is everything you dreamed it would be, and more. It’s exhilarating, but it’s terrifying and intense. 

You get dressed and step out of the fitting room, a bit overwhelmed to suddenly go from jeans and a t-shirt to what feels like a very showy and dramatic dress to you. The neckline is too low, the skirt too high, showing more chest and leg than you’re really comfortable with, but it’s what Ashtoreth wants to see on you. 

“I don’t know if I can pull this off. It looks silly, it doesn’t look right on me.” Your face feels hot, you feel embarrassed as the employees watch the two of you. All of them suit this style so well, they look so put together. You look like you’re playing dress up. You feel stupid for even suggesting to Ashtoreth that you wanted to dress in a similar style to hers, and you’re ready to pull your jeans and t-shirt back on and run away from the shop.

Ashtoreth raises a brow, a subtle motion of her head telling you she’s looking you up and down and you feel even more vulnerable now. Her eyes see everything, she is a predator sizing up her prey and you’re frozen to the spot.

“And who told you such a thing?” Her red lips draw tight in a disapproving frown.

You fumble for words. Clearly the thought had originated with you. Whenever you’re together she denies all of your self-hating words and replaces them with her approval and love, and here you are, still saying the same self-hating things.

“I did.”

“What a nasty little thing to think. And how wrong, too.” Ashtoreth rises from her seat on the bench and approaches you, settling one hand on your cheek, the other on your shoulder as she angles your face to make you look at her.

“Don’t you listen to that voice. You listen to _me_. You are stunning.”

Ashtoreth examines the outfit, the fit, the cut, gently nudging your shoulders back to make you stand taller as she starts to circle you, looking at you from all angles. You are aware of her hand on your shoulder, tracing her path along your upper back as she walks, her hand making a stop at the small of your back to trace up the length of your spine. You shiver and stand up straight, and she clamps both hands on your shoulders.

“The first thing about this style is confidence, my darling. Stand up straight. Carry yourself with pride.” She whispers low in your ear, her words are for you, and you alone. Her hand stays on your shoulder as she completes her circle around you, standing before you with her appraising eyes.

“I think we can do better, don’t you?” She eyes the dress disdainfully and goes hunting through the pile of clothing, that smile snaking onto her lips as she draws out two separate pieces this time. One is very plain, a simple black sleeveless dress. The other piece is sheer and black, a capelet at the top. Ashtoreth pushes both items into your arms and shoos you back into the fitting room with a chipper, “Off you pop!”

The new outfit still feels showy, the dress underneath showing just as much skin as the first dress, but the sheer dress over the top provides some coverage, while still showing you off. It feels fun and flirty, and makes you smile.

You step out of the fitting room, a nervous smile on your face. The sheer fabric of the upper layer feels soft, almost like a whisper against your legs as you move. There’s so much movement in the dress, the fabric fluttering with every turn of your body, every small shift in your step. Ashtoreth looks on approvingly, something new stretched out in her lap, though you can’t quite tell what it is yet.

“Now for accessories,” Her voice lilts upward as she speaks, and having seen just a small sampling of the body jewelry, the intimidating boots, you wonder exactly what she’s picked out for you.

Ashtoreth stands and you can see that the item in her lap is in fact a corset. Your breath catches, a little scared. Yes, you wanted fashion advice from her and some help shopping, yes you wanted her to pick out your clothes and decorate you however she wanted. But somehow the possibility of a corset didn’t occur to you.

“It’s just a suggestion.” She can see the hesitation on your face.

“Don’t those hurt? I won’t be able to breathe.”

“Oh, pet,” She laughs but your thoughts have snagged on the nickname and the meaning, the implications of her calling you ‘pet’ and how happy it makes you to receive this new nickname, “You’ve seen too many movies. I know how to lace you up proper. Now turn around, arms up.”

You turn and raise your arms. To your right, standing in the corner, is an ornate full-length mirror. In it you can see the pink hue of your cheeks and watch as Ashtoreth pulls the loose corset over your arms and head, sliding it over your chest and holding it in place around your torso, the top of it just under your chest.

“Hold this in place, would you, pet?” She asks and her breath feels hotter on your neck as she uses the nickname again. You nod short, quick nods. You will do anything as long as she keeps calling you that, as long as you can feel her quick fingers at work, tightening the strings on the corset as she wraps you up, a gift to herself.

“Hold onto the wall, darling.” Ashtoreth warns you and you grip the nearest wall, still fully visible to yourself in the mirror as Ashtoreth starts to tug on the strings, the thick fabric of the corset suddenly becoming tight. 

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” Her words and breath are even hotter on your skin now, like fire licking at your neck. Your skin aches as her words drift away. You both know you will stand there and let her lace you as tight as she wants, as tight as she needs to lace you up. You will let her. You will thank her. You hold onto the wall and groan as the corset forces the air from your lungs, trying to breathe deep but you can’t.

“You’re doing so well,” Ashtoreth’s voice is suddenly in your ear, her lips just touching the shell of your ear as she wraps the cords around her hands and yanks again, pulling another gasp from you. “Just a little more, dear. I know you can do it. Can you do this for me?”

You will do anything for her and you both know it. You nod, not sure you can speak at the moment, and feel the corset squeezing you tighter until Ashtoreth has decided she has modified your figure to suit her tastes. She ties the laces off and you can feel her hands smoothing over your sides, over the corset. You can breathe, as she promised, but it’s harder and requires more concentration to breathe slow and shallow enough that you don’t make yourself dizzy.

“Lovely.” She whispers, watching as you admire the shape she’s given you. The outfit had already been very lovely and stylish on its own, but the corset adds a darker element that feels right.

“Now, there’s just one thing missing.” Suddenly Ashtoreth is behind you, her back shielding you from the shop employees, and she’s wrapped a garter around your thigh and is discreetly dragging it upward. You don’t know how she got it on your leg so quickly. Sometimes it seems as though Ashtoreth can do things you can’t explain. Things appear in her hands, they disappear, and you never know where they came from, where they went. But her hand is on your thigh and you couldn’t care less where the garter came from, only that Ashtoreth has her whole hand pressed flat on your thigh, her other arm around your waist as she holds you against her body. You’re lightheaded, feeling her body pressed against the length of your backside, her hips against your rear, her deceptively strong arm wound around your waist, palm flat against the corset material as her other hand drags the garter ever higher. The skirt bunches up as she pulls it higher, your heart pounding as her hand reaches the top of your thigh, the garter settled just below your rear, her fingers grazing the swell of your butt as she straightens the garter.

“But no one can see it, it’s up so high.” You protest, your face hot as you see yourself in the full length mirror, looking thoroughly debauched, though she’s barely touched you. But it isn’t as if she even needed to touch you to own you. You belonged to her before the first time she touched you. Her touch is a gift, a reward.

“You want people to see it?” Ashtoreth asks, watching you watch yourself in the mirror. Her eyes are showing beneath her glasses and maybe it’s the corset making you see things but you feel as if for just seconds, she looks like a demon watching over your shoulder, her claws sinking into you through the corset and the sheer skirt.

You have no response for her. It isn’t as if you particularly want everyone to see this garter, especially with how high up on your thigh it is. Ashtoreth’s fingers brush over the skirt, where the garter bites into your thigh. It feels different, just the two of you knowing it’s there. It’s different from the corset, which everyone watched her lace you into. Only you and Ashtoreth know the garter is there, and she traces her fingers along the garter, around the entire circumference of your thigh, digging her fingers under the elastic when she reaches the inside of your thigh to press at your skin through the fabric of the skirt. You understand why she wanted it there now. She indulged you, dressed you and laced you up in front of a shop full of people who thirsted for her, let them all know that she was yours and you were hers, because that was what you wanted: to stake your claim on her. They watched, they ached, they seethed, they knew everything that had gone on between you just now.

“I don’t want them to know everything. I don’t want them to see everything. This is ours,” Her breath is hot, burning, fire licking at your neck as she snaps the garter back in place, the sting of it making you cry out sharply, but she just grins back at you in the mirror.

“This is our little secret, sweet pet.”


End file.
